


Cards on the Table

by Princess of Geeks (Princess)



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Anal Sex, First Time, M/M, Oral Sex, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-15
Updated: 2010-03-15
Packaged: 2017-10-08 00:26:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/70825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princess/pseuds/Princess%20of%20Geeks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kind of a straightup first time in which Daniel makes the first move. I was experimenting with a delayed reveal of some information about Jack and I think it works pretty well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cards on the Table

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Paian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paian/gifts).



Offworld, no possibility of surveillance, Daniel quietly says, "If I asked you to meet me in a hotel room in Denver tomorrow night, would you do that?"

"A hotel. In Denver."

"Yeah." Daniel, after asking this amazing, impossible thing, continues to stand with his back to Jack, shading his eyes with one flat hand, watching the moons set on PR3-449.

It's an uninhabited world, one from Jack's downloaded list -- as far as they can tell, it's never been inhabited by any people at all. Marked by the Ancients, it was left to evolve in splendid isolation. Today SG-1 has seen no sign of higher mammals, even. It is the planet's binary star system that has brought them here; for once a pure science mission that has Jack feeling pretty relaxed -- as relaxed as he ever gets off world. Teal'c and Carter are up on the hilltop, messing with the telescopes and cameras. He's accompanied Daniel back down here, to a ruined monument next to the gate. Daniel had been doing his thing, reading and recording the writing on stone, until it started to get dark. Then he'd stowed away his notebooks and his recorder. Soon they'll rejoin the others, and pack up, and go home.

Jack needs to clarify. His brain is frozen. "A hotel room. For--"

"What people usually do in hotel rooms."

Jack grabs a deep breath, lets it out. His fingertips are clammy where they touch his P-90.

"Sleep?"

Daniel lets out a harsh, brief laugh, almost a bark. He doesn't move. He's waiting, taut and nervous.

Jack says, switching abruptly from joking to careful neutrality, "Sure. Yeah."

Daniel stands there, shading his eyes, facing away, watching the sunset. The clouds are weird unlikely colors: Vermilion and red and purple and green.

Jack's radio crackles. "Sir, we're packed up. We could use a hand carrying everything back to the gate."

"Copy that, Major. On our way."

Daniel wheels and heads up the hill. Jack follows him. Jack wonders what's on Daniel's face, in the gathering dark.

As they load up and head for the gate, Carter is like a kid at Christmas, chattering about the things she's discovered, the things her instruments will show back on Earth. It's some pretty amazing astronomy. For once, Jack has more to say to her about the implications of her finds than Daniel does. Carter and Jack walk side by side in the lead, Daniel next, Teal'c on their six. Even Teal'c is relaxed -- barren planet, no enemies, science mission. The gate pulls them home.

In the locker room, Jack approaches Daniel as he's putting his coat on. Daniel's short hair is still damp from the shower, and Jack notices how he's yearning to run the pad of his finger across that line where clipped softness meets the skin of Daniel's neck. Jack clears his throat, then says softly, to Daniel's back, "Let me set up the place. I'm good at stuff like that."

"I suppose you are," Daniel says. He doesn't turn.

Jack manages to get a good night's sleep. But then, Jack can almost always sleep.

The next morning, Jack sticks a yellow post-it note, with a street address written on it, onto Daniel's computer screen.

That night, 1900, Jack arrives at the hotel that belongs to that Denver address. He showers, shaves, lays out the brand-new rubbers and Astroglide on the nightstand. He lies on the king-sized bed, wearing the white hotel robe, and watches ESPN. He is nervous, but he deliberately brought no beer. He wanted to do this cold sober.

Night falls. The key in the lock, the door cracking open, mean Daniel.

Daniel barges right in. He shuts the door hard behind him. He comes over to Jack, his eyes wide, his color high. He's stripping off his jacket and his button-down shirt as he comes. He gets a knee on the bed and his hands under Jack's bathrobe, a collision of damp hot skin, and Jack arches his back and bites down on a moan, because Daniel flips open the robe, presses his face into Jack's neck and then keeps right on going, down and down, kissing and nipping his way along Jack's naked torso. He takes Jack's dick into his mouth before Jack can say a word about rubbers or choices or what does Daniel expect from this night. Jack realizes that Daniel's hair smells of scented air conditioning and his breath is heavy with vodka.

"Goddammit; did you drive over here like that?" Jack chokes out. His body is tautly pushing up against Daniel's mouth, the nubbly robe spread wide open. He can smell the bloom of his own sweat. Even his spine wants to get closer to Daniel, and his dick wants to take up permanent residence at the back of Daniel's mouth. Jack is panting, already leaking. Daniel grabs his thighs with both hands, pressing down, keeping Jack firmly against the bed. His grip is tight. It almost hurts. It's perfect. Jack groans and drags his arms down and sets his hands softly on the crown of Daniel's head. He watches Daniel suck him, gritting his teeth, willing himself not to come like a teenager.

Daniel still has his glasses on. He pulls up and off Jack's dick just long enough to blurt, "I drove sober. Sat in the bar awhile."

"Ah," Jack says, and then Daniel is deep-throating him again, over and over, sucking and swirling and moaning. Ecstasy is not a word that comes easily to Jack's mind, but that's what this is. Ecstasy. He groans and tries not to squeeze Daniel's head.

"You keep that up, this party's gonna be over really soon," Jack finally says. He's grateful that Daniel's still got his hips pinned to the bed. Thrusting is all he wants to do, and if Daniel was letting him do that, he'd have come already.

Daniel pulls off him, a wet slide, and Jack's eyes get wide at the sight of Daniel's drugged look, Daniel's red, stung lips. He watches the swipe of Daniel's tongue, and Daniel looks at him for a moment, breathing hard, and pulls off his glasses and tosses them on the nightstand.

"Go ahead and come, okay? That's what I want now."

"But, Daniel..."

"You'll see. It'll be all right." And Daniel's mouth goes back to work.

"Take your pants off," Jack gasps, wondering if he's being understood, wondering if he's even forming the words right, because Daniel is bobbing up and down on his dick, and lifting a little with his hands on Jack's hipbones as he does, inviting Jack to fuck his mouth. "At least," he finishes.

And he feels Daniel smile, and Daniel ignores his request. Daniel keeps sucking him and making Jack fuck his mouth until Jack can't hold back any more and Jack comes, down Daniel's throat, Daniel's hand around the base of his shaft, fingertips caressing his balls, pulling his climax right out of him.

Before he can recover at all, still gasping, Daniel leans away, and Jack opens his eyes, grabbing at the air in a panic of loss, but all Daniel does is scoot back until he can stand up at the end of the bed and divest himself of his shoes and jeans and boxers. He's smiling, this weird secretive smile, the whole time.

Daniel glances at the nightstand and says, "You brought ... supplies."

"Yeah," Jack gasps, because Daniel's naked weight is on him then, and Daniel's hot mouth, that mouth that just made Jack come, that mouth that tastes of Jack's semen, is lovingly pressing against him -- lips, throat, jawline, lips again. Daniel's kissing him, intently and then, abruptly, deeply. In all the surprised minutes of anticipation that Jack had let himself think through, between that sunset on the binary-system planet, and now, kissing was one thing he'd never dared to imagine.

Jack's hands slip their way around Daniel's shoulders, and he kisses back. Hard. Deep. It's compelling, and takes most of Jack's focus, this exploring of Daniel's soft mouth, but Jack's not so distracted that he can't find good places to anchor his hands, too -- Daniel's nape, and that sweet swell where hip becomes ass. Daniel's weight on him is warm and smooth. He kisses Daniel, open-mouthed, pushing his tongue in. He gets lost in it, because Daniel kisses like he works, like the thing in front of him is the only thing that exists, like the whole universe has now been reduced to what Daniel can feel with his lips and his tongue. Time slows to a stop.

Through the kissing, Jack is continually aware of Daniel's muscled body on top of him, and of Daniel's sloppy edge of drunkenness, and Daniel's hard erection pressing into the hollow of muscle next to Jack's soft package.

Finally Daniel pulls his mouth away. He leans up, braced on one arm, and plucks the box of lube from the nightstand. He glances at Jack and wets his lips.

Jack raises his eyebrows, wondering what he's about to hear.

"Roll over," Daniel says, and a thrill runs along Jack's spine, and Jack does. He gets one arm out of its sleeve, twisting away from the nightstand and most of the robe, toward the vacant side of the bed.

"You want a pillow under your hips?" Daniel says, breathlessly. Jack feels him kneel up, his legs on either side of one of Jack's. Daniel's balls drag against the back of Jack's thigh. It makes a shiver start in the small of Jack's back, rippling up in delicious waves of goosebumps. Jack pulls his arms in, under the remaining pillow.

"Yeah, I guess," he says. Daniel takes care of it, folding and stuffing under Jack's hips, and Jack arranges his dick, even though he's not sure if he can get hard again, under the circumstances, but he's ready for that just in case. Then Jack closes his eyes to wait. His ass is a little in the air. It feels exposed, almost embarrassing.

Daniel's warm thighs bracket his, and the next thing he feels is the press of Daniel's slick fingers running along his crack. The pleasure makes him twitch, and he scrubs his face deeper into the pillow and moans. Daniel's finger presses in -- maybe his middle finger, it's hard to tell -- and Daniel's other hand rests flat and warm against a buttock. Jack feels like pushing up, into that splitting sensation, and so he does.

"God, you're tight," Daniel mutters.

Jack grunts, and his hips want to rock, up toward Daniel's hand. So he lets them. It feels good, a very intense kind of good, and the last thing he wants to do is fight that feeling. Stretching, a burn in his ass that's still on the pleasant side of intense. Jack keeps rocking, letting his hips come down into the pillow each time. It's like a signal for Daniel to keep going.

"How long has it been? Jesus." Daniel might be talking to Jack, might be talking about Jack, might be meaning to talk only to himself, but he's spreading Jack, opening him with slippery fingers, and a grunt that means _don't stop_ is all Jack can offer in reply.

The stretched burn eases, and Daniel's fingers slide better now, things not quite as tight. Jack can feel his own pulse beating in his lips. Daniel's fingers spear him, sending ribbons of sensation through his belly and down his legs. He thinks about keeping his hands relaxed, under the pillow, thinks about not tensing them, not tensing anywhere. The finger-fucking goes on, making him overheated and breathless. It feels so damn good to rock up, pressing his ass against Daniel's knuckles on each of Daniel's firm strokes. Deeper is better. Even deeper. Even better. Daniel angles his fingers, searching. Jack groans when he finds the gland, because it sends a shock of intense sensation in every direction at once. Then, with his free hand, Daniel pets Jack's ass, a gentle signal, and slows his strokes, then eases his fingers out.

Jack swallows. He shifts on his pillows and pulls one knee higher. His ass is raised even more now, maybe right in Daniel's face. Jack hears the small rustling tearing sounds that mean Daniel has paused to get a condom out of its packaging and onto himself. Jack winces and silently tells everything, all his extremities, all his innards, to hang with, to stay loose. It's both harder and easier than it sounds. It's difficult to wait quietly for what he knows is next. He hears the squelch of the lube, the click of the cap, Daniel fumbling, and then feels a shift of his weight.

Daniel squares up over him. He pulls both his knees between Jack's, and braces himself on his arms. Jack feels his knuckles brushing against Jack's triceps, almost ticklish, then firming to take Daniel's weight. Then Daniel shifts again to balance on his left arm, and Jack feels the nudge and the push of his cockhead, and Daniel leans gently, firmly in, his thighs pressing Jack's. He's using his right hand to aim.

Jack exhales, long and slow. Daniel pushes into him, and it makes Jack groan. Jack didn't think about groaning; didn't make a decision to make noise. But he does, muffling his face in the pillow.

It's a slow, hot push -- a glowing burn. His tendons seem to melt, and he can feel every single pulse point in his body. He presses his face into the pillow, trying to muster the leverage to push back, push into Daniel's solid, slow thrust, but he can hardly move. His muscles won't coordinate. He moans again.

"Ungh," Daniel says, or something like. It's hard to hear through the red roaring in Jack's ears. Daniel pauses, and Jack manages to ease his hips down and then up again, just a little. Daniel's lying full-length on him.

Daniel pushes, eases back, pushes again. And Jack feels the curve of Daniel's abs against his ass, feels the brush of Daniel's balls, all Daniel's warm weight coming down, and Daniel's chin scrubs his neck.

Now Daniel's moaning. And then he's talking, and Jack feels startled, even though his nerve endings aren't coordinated well enough to let him really twitch. Daniel's crooning to him -- in Spanish.

Why Spanish? Why did he think, on whatever fucking genius level of his brain, that Spanish would be the language Jack would want to hear just now? Why, to Daniel, is Spanish a good language in which to fuck Jack?

No way to know. No answers. Maybe Jack can ask, later. When his brain isn't exploding. Daniel fucks him, slow and careful and smooth.

_"Tan hermoso; tan bueno" -- So beautiful; so good,_ Daniel murmurs, that and more. Endearments, silly things that make Jack smile, and at the end of each stroke Daniel grinds in against him. Inside Jack is exquisite solid heat, all the way inside, so deep, deep as Daniel can get, and then slowly, slowly Daniel pulls back. Another relentless glide, slick with the lube Jack had brought, opening Jack up all over again, and Jack presses his face down into the pillow and pants and pushes back.

It goes on forever, a throbbing deep slide, Daniel nailing him to the mattress, strong gentle thrusts that gradually speed up. Daniel's panting. They're both slick with sweat now. After that first glorious blanketing when Jack felt all his weight, Daniel had braced himself on his palms again. Now he's sagging; Jack can feel Daniel's arms against his triceps.

Daniel pauses, panting. He's pressing in, far as he can, and his breath hitches. "Jack!" he says, and he tries to pull back to thrust, but his body has overridden his mind and he shoves against Jack, deep, intense, and his chest and shoulders press down, and Jack feels it -- the pulsing that is Daniel climaxing inside him.

The orgasm lasts a while, with Daniel quietly keening against his neck, still pressing hard, and Jack fumbles a hand out from under the pillow to grab at Daniel's. The touch is so simple, so ordinary, so nonsexual, yet it makes Daniel gasp again, and jolts his whole body, and then he slumps against Jack, trying to breathe without gasping like he's just had a gut-punch.

Jack wants to laugh, it all feels so good. Daniel's still filling his ass, Daniel's erection still there, still hard, and Daniel's clinging to him.

Not letting go of Daniel's hand, he eases his head around, finding a pocket for his mouth, so he can breathe and wait out Daniel's boneless slump. He shifts a knee -- he's pretty hard again now, amazingly enough, but it's fine, it's okay to wait, and maybe it would be okay if he didn't come a second time at all. He's warm all over -- hot, even -- and yet patient with it.

When he moves the knee it sparks movement from Daniel. Daniel groans and moves, too, grabbing Jack's hip and rolling them to their sides. Jack finds the right muscles and squeezes Daniel's cock, and Daniel makes those overwhelmed noises again and twitches all over. It's nice, inside Jack, as well, to get that response from Daniel, so Jack squeezes again, and gets a jolt to his prostate from the changed angle of Daniel's head, and Daniel moans some more and holds him tighter.

Jack's breath has calmed, and he finds he misses the press and weight of pillow and body against his dick, so he slides a hand down, still holding Daniel's hand with the other, and cups his palm over his cockhead. It's wet. Very wet. His own touch makes him twitch his hips.

Daniel mumbles against his neck, "Don't go on without me," and Jack grins.

"Never," he says, and then Daniel's hand joins his. Daniel cups his balls, squeezing a little, rolling, while Jack moves his hand over the head. It makes his eyes squeeze shut. Intense, this -- Daniel still half hard in his ass, the sliding, stretching pleasure there overriding the burn he's sure to feel tomorrow, blending with the shimmering friction of his hand on his own dick, plus the extra confusion of sensation from Daniel's hand on his balls.

In fact, it's overload, and now that Daniel's lying still, his hand the only thing moving, Jack's focus goes to his groin, and it's like his arousal skipped some steps back there when he wasn't looking. It's going to be quick, now. In just a few strokes, a second orgasm starts to rip through him, and when he gasps Daniel's name, Daniel presses in again, and the shift of Daniel's dick makes Jack quake and cry out -- a wholly different, doubled, sweet explosion. He gasps, and swallows, and holds himself gently, his hand over Daniel's, waiting it out.

They lie there, slick and sweat-covered, breathing hard. After a while, Daniel grunts and shifts and slides free of Jack's body, leaving a strange sense of loss that makes Jack try to grope for his other hand. Daniel deals with the rubber, then presses back in right away, soft and messy against his ass, and presses a kiss to Jack's neck.

Jack starts to drift, the quick drag of sleep catching hold of him, but Daniel, of course, starts to talk.

"I couldn't believe you would actually do this. I still can't really believe it."

Jack takes a deep breath. He's grateful that Daniel's still wrapped around him like a sloth on a tree branch, and he's even more grateful that he doesn't have to look Daniel in the eye right now.

"Pretty believable, just now. Doesn't get much realer than this." Jack gives Daniel's hand a squeeze, and feels Daniel smile against his neck.

Daniel says, "God, you feel so good. We should clean up, but I can't move."

"Good thing about a hotel, right? Somebody else does the laundry."

Daniel chuckles, a warm breathy exhalation, and he snuggles in even closer and relaxes.

Jack lets himself drift again, and soon he follows Daniel into a doze.

Jack wakes with a start, and he can tell that it's not that much later. He swallows and glances around, listens for whatever noise there is outside the haven of this room. It's a nice hotel, so the walls are thick, but it's definitely quieter outside than it was at 1900 -- that deep waiting stillness of the middle of the night. Daniel's really asleep, gone boneless against Jack's back.

Jack bends a knee and winces a little as the dried come and lube catches in his hair. He wonders how long Daniel will sleep, and what he'll say when he wakes up. He wonders if they'll regret this in the morning, and if their reasons for regret will be the same or different. Now, when there's no chance of Daniel asking him questions he really doesn't want to answer, he wishes he could see Daniel's sleeping face. Because Jack knows how beautiful he looks asleep -- somehow more innocent, unmarked by worry or grief.

Jack lets himself wonder again why Daniel has asked for this, finally, after years of careful unobtrusive flirting, years of dancing around the elephant in the room. He wonders what Daniel will say about that, because he knows damn well Daniel will talk about it, and he wonders, a little tendril of worry, why Daniel had to get drunk to come to him tonight.

He sighs, and clasps his hands around Daniel's forearms, and settles in to just feel the warmth of skin on skin, until Daniel wakes up. He's strangely alert now, and not tired at all. His ass aches, but it's a pleasant reminder. He doesn't want to move away from keeping every possible inch of skin plastered up against Daniel's.

After a while Daniel stirs and snorts and twitches, and his hands close reflexively, but find Jack's skin and muscle under them, and their movement goes smooth and careful.

"Umm," Daniel says, perhaps realizing where he is, and he presses his face into Jack's nape again.

His hands feel so good. Maybe it won't be so hard to look at him after all. Jack turns in Daniel's arms, and they're face to face, sour night-time breath drifting between them, both frowning a little. They gaze at each other, assessing. Jack, eyes open, carefully tilts his head and kisses Daniel. Daniel receives it, and Jack can hear him thinking.

"Why did you say 'yes', " Daniel asks -- no fencing, no hedging. Straight in.

"Why did you have to do this drunk?" Jack returns, the parry automatic.

Daniel shakes his head a little, looking rueful. "You have no idea how scary you are," he says, and scrunches down and presses his face into Jack's neck, curling with his hips and slowly rolling them in against Jack, just once. The feel of that warmth, sticky and sweet, makes Jack close his eyes for a moment.

"You can't be serious," Jack says. "You've never been scared of me. Ever."

"Well, no. Not really. But.... I just... I've wanted this for a long time, you know that. And somehow I just finally had to come right out and ask, to find out if what I would get was your "we can't ever do that" speech, even though I had a strong feeling you wanted this, too." Daniel chuckles, his face still hidden. "I have a very clear and detailed version of you giving that speech in my head, you know."

"So... you just had to know, finally."

"Yeah, I guess. Honestly," and Daniel cups the side of his neck, and pushes into him with his hips again, making Jack wince at the pleasure, "I had no idea that you'd really say yes."

"Come on," Jack says, settling his arms more comfortably around Daniel's middle, keeping their groins pressed together. "If you hadn't noticed, your record of talking me into crazy wacked-out things is pretty much unbroken."

"So that's what this is," Daniel returns, leaning his head back to look at Jack, and quirking a smile, and Jack notices that his eyes are starting to fog over with pleasure again. "A crazy wacked-out thing."

"Crazy, wacked-out and spectacular," Jack says, his voice full of quiet approval, and he leans in again and nuzzles Daniel's neck. It is crazy, and amazing, to know he can touch like this now. Such a huge surprise. He presses against Daniel, chest, stomach, thighs. "So far."

"Oh, yeah," Daniel says, and Jack can tell that some part of him that was holding back, wondering, analyzing, relaxes just a little.

They lie there, pressed together, reveling in the feeling, and after a while Daniel starts giving little, erratic shrugs with his hips, and Jack feels them both slowly getting hard.

"Long time till morning yet," Jack says, when they're languidly pressing into each other, creating a silent rhythm, already in sync again.

"Guh," Daniel says, or something like it.

They rock together for a while like that. Jack feels that Daniel is waiting for him to do something, with a kind of gentlemanly politeness, since Daniel had done nothing less than attack him for the first round. Jack slides a hand down Daniel's side, enjoying the smooth path of muscle, the curve of a hip, and he gets his hand between them and gathers up both their dicks. He's really happy to see that in fact, it's no problem for him to get hard again. Not with this kind of motivation. Daniel groans and closes his eyes, and his hands go lazy against Jack's back.

Jack squeezes and gently tugs -- warm pressure on that most-sensitive skin. Daniel leans in and reaches over Jack's shoulder, pressing Jack back a little, and Jack goes with it. Daniel's getting the lube. Jack waits, eyes closed, until he feels the cool drip and easy slide on their dicks. He hears the cap snap shut, and feels the jerk of Daniel's arm as he tosses it away.

"God," Jack says, because the smoother, cooler glide is really, really good. It's made him really hard; Daniel too. So Jack squeezes tighter, speeds up his strokes, everything slick now, and a groan rumbles in his chest when he feels Daniel's big hand curve around his, riding the rhythm he's setting.

"Jack," Daniel murmurs, and Daniel opens his eyes. It's hard to look into that intensity of blue, but Jack manages. The corners of Daniel's eyes crinkle and very soon he's panting again. Jack makes it harder, faster, just doing what he likes, doing it for both of them, and Daniel claws at his shoulder and comes in a hot rush, and soon Jack follows, his hips jerking forward against Daniel's. It's a shorter, sharper orgasm than earlier, when Daniel had been inside him.

And again with the panting and the clinging and the sloth-likeness, Jack thinks, and he smiles. His face is against Daniel's face, trapped between Daniel's cheek and the pillow, and he turns his head a little and turns his smile into a nuzzle. Daniel. Only Daniel. He wouldn't have believed he'd be good for three orgasms in one night. Incredible. Daniel's sticky hand slides up over Jack's shoulder, Daniel's body relaxes. Daniel sighs, gusty and big, and it sounds almost sad, or regretful, or something, prompting Jack to free both his arms and wrap him up. Now, he can hear Daniel thinking again. Jack holds him, refusing to leave the moment, hiding in their warmth and the half-darkness.

When Daniel finally speaks, the words press against Jack's skin. "Why now? Why did this happen now?"

Jack smiles, and he doesn't loosen his hold. "You tell me. It was your idea."

Daniel huffs a little, more than a sigh. If he could see Daniel's face, Jack would be seeing an eyeroll. Daniel's starting to pull away, but Jack doesn't want him to.

He can do this. He can talk. He flops an arm out behind Daniel and wipes his palm on the spread, then starts petting Daniel's head. The soft line of clipped, short hair at his nape feels exactly the way Jack knew it would. "Listen, Daniel, you've always had this available. Are you just now figuring out that I always do pretty much whatever you ask? Reasonable or unreasonable?"

"Okay. I guess I did know that. And it's still scary."

"You just hate the responsibility of making the date. Being the one to ask."

"No, it's not that, actually. It's just...."

"That maybe this changes things."

"Yeah."

That's the sixty-four thousand dollar question, and they both know it. Now that they've sketched the issue out to Daniel's satisfaction, Jack is relieved to see that Daniel's willing to lapse back into the moment. Daniel shuts up. He tilts his head into Jack's touch, continuing to lie all tangled. Jack's relieved. He mostly just wants to feel this, to know it's real, to have Daniel here. He strokes Daniel's neck, lying quietly. Daniel's hands move gently on his skin for a while.

Then Daniel pulls back and says, "Okay, now we really do need a shower."

Jack nods, and brushes his knuckles against Daniel's cheek. He'd shaved too, apparently, at home. Jack is pretty sure that it's sheer wonder that's showing in his face, because Daniel's eyes soften, and he smiles.

"Come on," Daniel says, and he pulls back, a little reluctantly, and gets up. Jack follows him into the bath. Daniel has a gorgeous ass, and it's fun to let his glance linger now. He'd been the master of the stolen shower-room glances. This is better.

Apparently Daniel feels the same, because after getting the shower running, he looks over his shoulder, raking Jack up and down and smiling. Daniel gets in, pulls the curtain halfway, finds the soap and unwraps it. Jack watches him for a minute, then realizes he needs to piss.

When he turns back to the shower, Daniel is looking around the curtain at him, his expression inviting and a little wary.

"You want to share?" Jack asks. So hard to negotiate this. So out of his league here, playing in Daniel Land, where anything can apparently happen and dreams can come true.

"Well, yeah, actually. If you--" Instead of finishing, Daniel waves his hand vaguely. Jack gives a half a nod and climbs in.

Daniel puts a wet, warm hand on his shoulder and looks at him, obviously unsure what he's seeing in Jack's face. Jack raises his arms and hugs him, and Daniel sighs. Definitely relief this time.

Jack leans his head against Daniel's. Skin, again, and muscle and heat, and it's an overwhelming, full-body experience to be this close to Daniel, no barriers at all, with the hangover of sensation from the sex they had just behind them, that experience hardly blunted at all by the nap. Jack is having a bit of trouble catching up with reality, which for him, is strange. He's usually a very quick study. It's one of his best things. He squeezes Daniel close, feels Daniel smile against his neck, and then there's the scrub of soapy hands on his back. Daniel's not hesitating now. The reassurance of a hug is apparently a universal language.

Daniel scrubs Jack's back -- all the way up to his neck, and then he reaches for a washcloth from the rack and scrubs some more, harder. He drops the washcloth and runs soapy fingers over Jack's ass, rubs in between his cheeks with the flat of his hand, explores a little, lingering. It feels soothing. Jack says, "Mm," and turns his head to nuzzle Daniel's cheek.

Daniel eases them apart, lathers up again and hands Jack the soap. With a glance up to meet Jack's eyes, as if making sure he has permission, he reaches for Jack's groin and washes him, there, too. It's lovely -- the soap and warm water cutting through all the dried crud. Jack puts his hands on Daniel's shoulders, rubbing him a little with the soap, and just enjoys it. When Daniel's done, they carefully trade places in the small space so Jack can rinse, and then Jack turns to Daniel, to wash him.

Jack doesn't linger quite as much, but enjoys it all immensely. It's so new and strange -- touching Daniel, scrubbing his back, running hands over his ass, cupping the soft weight of his dick and his balls, scrubbing fingertips into Daniel's curling reddish hair, laying a hand on his flat stomach, stroking him anywhere, nothing off limits.

When they're both rinsed, Jack moves in for another hug. Daniel parks his hands on Jack's butt and leans against him.

"This is nice," Jack says, and once again he feels Daniel smile.

They kill the water and climb out and towel off. Daniel walks ahead of him to the bed, giving Jack another pleasant interlude of watching his ass. Daniel sits on the fresh bed, a towel dangling from his hand, and flips down the spread to expose the pillows. He turns to speak, but his breath catches. That makes Jack happy, getting that reaction. It's a good sign. Because Jack is sinking to his knees on the soft carpet, edging close to Daniel, and bending his head down to lick and taste.

Daniel's so clean, hardly smelling or tasting of himself, all soap and the fading tang of hard water.

"God, Jack," Daniel murmurs, and his hand is soft against the side of Jack's head.

Jack brushes his lips across the skin, experimenting, seeing what the sweet spots are, what the hot spots are, where he can swipe his tongue or gently suck to make Daniel's breath hitch. Daniel starts to get hard again right away, and soon Jack takes hold of the base, lifting the growing erection to take the tip into his mouth. He sucks gently, making Daniel outright gasp, which makes Jack smile. He smothers it, though, because he wants to seal his mouth around Daniel, do what he knows feels good to him when he's on the receiving end of this.

Daniel's making little noises now -- manly whimpers, Jack imagines Daniel calling them. He leans back a little, wanting a glimpse of Daniel's face, and Daniel is watching him. He looks stunned and intent and turned on.

All systems 'go', then. Jack lowers his eyes, and pushes as much of Daniel's cock into his mouth as he can, triggering a gag reflex, which he tries to conceal by pulling back right away and squeezing with his hand.

He shifts his knees and puts his free hand on Daniel's thigh and gets busy establishing a rhythm of bobbing and sucking, staying shallow. It's harder than you'd think, to coordinate it, and he can't get nearly as much of Daniel's dick down his throat as he'd thought he'd be able to. Not at all like Daniel did for him earlier.

He's not very worried, though, because Daniel's clearly loving this -- his skin getting warmer, starting to smell and taste like himself again, through the fading soap. The big muscles in his legs are relaxed, while his dick is getting harder and harder. Jack can taste the pre-come starting to gather at the tip, too, and he breaks his rhythm to taste that, roll it around a little, and then he sucks just on the head, making Daniel jerk and gasp. Daniel's hand tightens on Jack's head, and when Jack starts the gentle bobbing again, Daniel's hips move in a bare suggestion of matching the pace.

Jack didn't expect to like this so much, but it's hypnotizing, and very satisfying. Very hot, too. If he hadn't come so much already, he'd be a lot harder than he is now. It's not going to be much of an erection, but it's not for lack of feeling turned on. Daniel, now. Daniel's into it. Daniel's gasping, and very hard, and he says, "Jack, Jack, how you look, how it looks, you doing that..."

A little more lift in the movement of Daniel's hips, and Jack knows he's close. He squeezes harder with his hand, moves it a little, too, stroking along with his mouth, and Daniel's really leaking now, and suddenly his hand tightens on Jack's skull and his hips buck and he's coming.

Which is kind of a disaster. Daniel's dick gets shoved a little further down Jack's throat than Jack can manage, and the flood of liquid is bitter and too rich, and Jack had wanted to swallow, had planned to, but it's too much. He chokes, tries to grab a quick swallow and stay with it, but he can't. He turns his head to the side, managing to hold onto Daniel's dick and bring his other hand up over the head, but he chokes, his eyes water, and he starts coughing. Then he just about can't stop.

"Crap," he hears Daniel say, and Daniel's leaning over him, a warm hand on his shoulder, one still cupped around his skull.

Jack manages to stop the coughing, and heaves to his feet.

"Crap," Daniel repeats. Jack lurches for the sink, cups his hands and drinks. Coughs again, drinks again. His throat is burning. Finally he's got his voice back. His eyes are stinging.

"Well, that was ridiculous," he says, reaching for a towel.

"God, baby," Daniel says, and then looks chagrined at himself. He ignores his own endearment -- Jack wonders for a second why he looks like that; he'd said more and sappier things than that earlier, in Spanish, but maybe that was the vodka talking -- and gets up and comes over.

Jack finishes wiping his mouth and his eyes, and puts the towel to use on Daniel's groin, wiping up the come he'd let splatter on Daniel's thigh. Probably some on the carpet over there, too.

He puts the towel on the counter and heads for the bed again, dragging Daniel in his wake. They both sit down, Daniel's arm coming around him.

"Crap," Daniel says again, and there's amazement and understanding in his voice. "I didn't expect... You should have told me you never did that; and you didn't have to swallow, either. It would have been fine if you just-- Holy christ, Jack. Earlier! You let me--"

Daniel looks truly appalled. Jack meets his eyes, simply raises an eyebrow. Kinda like Teal'c would, but with less attitude. Daniel leans back on the bed, then, open mouthed, looking like a centerfold, except for the fish-out-of-water expression. He's propped on his elbows, his dick, which still hasn't entirely deflated, bobbing a little against his thigh. Jack strokes his shoulder, wishing he could get the moment back.

Daniel finishes, "You should have said something."

"Oh?"

"My god. Did I hurt you, earlier?"

"No. You were careful."

Daniel sits up, though Jack is trying to nudge him all the way onto the bed so Jack can lie beside him. Jack gives up on that, and instead pulls down the covers and slides under them. Daniel just sits there, half turned to him, still looking stunned.

"And again with the not believing you would let me do ... anything. Certainly never let me... Jack, have you ever even been with another man before at all?" Daniel bites his own words off, staring at Jack. It's like he's sorry he said it as soon as the words are out of his mouth.

"Do we really have to talk about it?"

"No, but--"

"Ah!" Jack pulls on Daniel's arm, and gets him under the covers and lying down. Daniel comes willingly now, and lets Jack turn him so that Jack can spoon up against Daniel's back. It's lovely, how Jack's half-hard dick fits into the curve of Daniel's firm buttocks -- so familiar and yet so strange, like everything about this night has been.

"You're sure I didn't hurt you," Daniel repeats, hugging Jack's arms to him, snuggling back against Jack.

"I'm sure."

"God." Daniel can't seem to get over it. "I'm, I'm, what. Surprised? Embarrassingly turned on at the notion of getting to do that for you? God, Jack."

"See? No problem."

"You are one ... amazing guy."

"Which you already knew." Jack presses a kiss to Daniel's sweet nape. "Hey, brings new meaning to the term 'peaceful explorer', doesn't it?"

Daniel laughs out loud at that, and Jack feels he's salvaged the situation fairly well. He settles onto the pillow. The middle of the night is edging toward the wee small hours. He could sleep, and sleeping here, with Daniel, is sounding like six kinds of heaven. Comfortable and warm and everything he'd hoped for. And tomorrow can damn well take care of itself. Maybe Daniel won't have to bring that up quite yet.

Jack lies there, listening to their breathing, feeling Daniel's heartbeat. Starts to get drowsy. And there it is -- Daniel's thinking again. So Jack says so, out loud, prompting Daniel to chuckle, and, of course, explain.

"You remember when I went to Moscow with Paul? To try to negotiate for their DHD? ....This is like that."

"What? You're saying that having sex with me is like negotiating with the Russians?" Again, he makes Daniel laugh out loud. It's a beautiful feeling, to be the cause of that -- a different burn of pleasure in Jack's belly. "Or if what you mean is, you had wild Russian hotel sex with Davis, I really don't want to know."

Daniel's chuckles die away, but the amusement remains in his voice. "No, no, nothing like that.... What I mean is, I had to skip a lot of steps with them. I had the chance to ask them to put everything on the table, jump right to giving us their DHD. And I did."

Jack wonders where the hell Daniel is going with this, but says, ruefully, "And we all know how well _that_ turned out."

"Yeah, well, that's kind of what I'm afraid of here." Daniel pats Jack's hands, and settles more firmly against his front. "But my point is, it's all on the table now, with us. Isn't it?"

Jack smiles. Daniel, why should he be surprised, can't do anything without understanding it.

"Well. I'm no negotiator, as you well know, but I do know something about poker."

"Poker." Daniel turns over the metaphor. Jack smiles to himself, knowing the exact look on Daniel's face.

"The way I see it, you had the nerve to call the bluff on this flirtation thing we've had simmering. And in poker, you know, when the hand is called, that's it. Everyone has to show their cards."

"Yeah," Daniel says, and again Jack feels him relax, think it through.

Daniel says, "And then the winners collect, and the deal's over and a new game starts. And this night will end, and we'll go home tomorrow. Go back to work. Go out in the field."

"Yup." Too much to ask that Daniel would leave tomorrow for the dawn. "What's your point?"

"We put it all on the table here. Some of us more literally than others."

"You bet your ass," Jack returns, and Daniel laughs again.

"Your ass, I think it was! And a mighty fine ass it is, too."

"Why, thank you," Jack says, smug.

Daniel pauses. "But. Will we do this again? Or is the game over now, after this one hand?"

"Do you want to?"

"I asked you first."

"No, you asked me if we will. I asked if you want to."

"You're right. And, of course I want to."

"See you and call you, Doctor Jackson."

"Even though poker's never really been my game, you know."

"That's okay. We can stick to chess in the future. It's a better game for two players anyway."

"At your house. In your basement." The smile is back in Daniel's voice.

"And I'm thinking... Thor owes me one, you know. I bet he's got some shiny cloaking technology he'd like to share."

"With you."

"With me."

"With... us." It sounds as if Daniel is trying out the taste of the word, seeing if he likes the way it feels in his mouth.

Jack smiles, and gets up on one elbow, and kisses him, and then settles back to sleep, with Daniel in his arms. Because there's still lots of time until morning, and the morning will definitely be a whole new deal.

 

the end.


End file.
